Vindiction
by Echante
Summary: Meredith/Derek! I know! Read because I will probably never write this pairing again. A substantial amount of Mark/Addison though. When Derek's wife dies, and Meredith's husband dies, they are drawn together.


A/N: Not my usual ship. However, this was way too funny to pass up, I stole this storyline out of a book. It made me laugh so I had to write it. Plenty of Maddison for my normal buds. Probably not my best writing. I wrote it in fifteen minutes because my neighbor cuts off her internet at ten and I tap off hers ;-)

* * *

Derek checked his watch and sighed. Thirteen more hours, two more layovers and he'd be home. He smiled as he thought of it, home, to his beautiful wife with the auburn hair and the calming smile. He herded himself along with the majority of the passengers as they departed the first plane and scattered with the rest of them when they went to catch their respective planes.

He stopped to buy a sandwich. He wandered through several of the airports shops and browsed the magazine section before deciding to head towards his boarding gate. He settled into a chair and sunk into its rough surface, attempting to sleep…

What seemed like two hours later, soft hands shook him. He'd been dreaming of his practice and restarting with Mark and eating lunch with his wife when he was awaken. "What…" he muttered, groggy.

"Are you Derek Sheppard?" The woman asked.

"Um… yes."

She looked at him sympathetically, "I'm so sorry sir, but there's a call for you on the third line."

He wondered why she was apologizing but shrugged it off, mind not fully functioning. "Hello?" he said into the phone when he picked it up.

"Mr. Sheppard?" A small part of him wanted to correct, 'Dr. Sheppard,' but he somehow sensed that the formality was unimportant.

"Yes." He says instead.

"This is Officer Blake Davis. I'm so sorry to inform you, your wife is dead."

And with that sentence his world shuffled. The pieces rearranged and blurred his vision, fire roared into his ears.

"Ho…how?" is all he manages.

The officer looks hesitant. "A break-in shooting." Is all he says.

"Oh." And with that, Derek faints.

* * *

He wakes up in his own home and flinches when he sees the sheets. This is where his wife was killed, this is wrong, morbid. A wave of horror and sorrow drenches him.

"Good morning sunshine." A voice says. He startles and she laughs.

"Mom." He croaks.

The woman smiles, "How do you feel?"

"Like shit."

"Well… You're better off." His mother says darkly, and Derek scrunches his eyebrow, hadn't Addison been the apple of his mother's eye? What changed?

"What?"

"Nothing. The funeral is today." She changes the subject.

"Oh." He says.

"Honey, why don't you go get changed and we'll head there together?"

And then they go.

* * *

He recognizes Meredith Sloan. He'd been on several double dates with her and her husband, and she and Addison had been best friends since childhood. She's sitting silently in the corner, and its then he realizes that all eyes are turned to him, they're staring and he's not sure why. A couple of heads shake and he is even more confused. 'What the hell?' he thinks. But he ignores them.

He walks up to the casket. She's paler then he remembered, death's final gift and she's dressed nicely, her favorite dress and shoes to carry to her grave. He sighs, "I'm sorry Addy." He whispers and leans down to kiss her cheek.

Meredith Sloan is standing away slightly, as if in queue to talk to her so he steps aside. She places a bouquet of lilies by Addison's head and then leans over slightly and spits on her cheek. And then she walks away.

Curious and confused, Derek catches up to her and asks, "Hey, what was that all about?"

"What?"

"The spitting." He elaborates.

"Oh." She looks surprised, "You didn't hear?"

"No…"

There's coldness in her eyes as she delivers the blow, "Your wife died with her mouth on my husband's dick."

And she stomps away.

* * *

When he enters the bar, she's there as well. He figures it's because they were both trying to avoid Mark and Addison's favorite bar, which was next door.

He's had some time to digest but it still doesn't seem plausible. His lovely wife… his Addy, and his best friend…

"How long?" he asks her when he approaches and she shrugs, "Who knows."

He never realized it, he'd been too preoccupied with his own wife, but Mark had chosen well. His wife was spunky, he could tell, she downed tequila shots without blinking and delivered bad news without sympathy. She had a small wisp of bang that refused to stay placid and fell against her face uproariously.

"Did you know? Before?" He asked.

"It's been going on for awhile." She doesn't face him, "I found her picture in his wallet."

Derek flinches, "Why?"

"Because your wife is a bitch and a whore." She shrugs. He finds it kind of cute.

"Mark wasn't the picture of fidelity either."

Meredith nods, "that's true too. So you're slutty wife, got together with my slutty husband…"

He sighs and buries the beer into his head, "I don't know how I didn't see it… she always told me she was hanging out with you… and it would be at the weirdest times and she'd just say you were having a sleepover or something stupid."

"You are stupid." Meredith agrees.

"You know, I could use some sympathy, instead of this matter-o-fact shit that you're giving me. No wonder Mark cheated."

"Well you're a whinny bitch, no wonder Addison cheated."

"Fair enough." He concedes.

And it's right then, when he least expected it, (although he should have), when she kissed him. Not soft or fleeting or sweet kisses like Addison had given him, but hard, straight on the mouth, alcohol induced kisses that burned down his throat. He let it happen. Their spouses were bitches. They deserved each other.

* * *

When he first met Addison, he'd chased her. He'd followed her around, nagged her consistently until she'd agreed to go out with him. Now he saw why they hadn't worked. Because he'd done the begging and she'd allowed him to marry her.

Meredith was different. She was blunt, she was sweet and kind and when drunk very, very talkative and touchy. Meredith stirred feelings inside of him; she was a love not an obsession. He dated her. Brought her flowers and made love to her.

On the anniversary of the car crash, Derek makes his way towards the cemetery towards the grave of Mark Sloan. When he approaches it he leans over and spits a massive wad onto his grave and smiles. "I figured I owe Meredith that." He tells the grave stone.

"You're a son of a bitch." He tells the dirt but then happily tells the ground, "But you're a generous one."

And as Derek walks away, swinging his umbrella ready for the coming rain he hears an almost inaudible sigh in the wind, "You're welcome." It says, "And thanks."


End file.
